<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>A Day in the Life by karasunovolleygays</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26537527">A Day in the Life</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/karasunovolleygays/pseuds/karasunovolleygays'>karasunovolleygays</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Domestic Fluff, Future Fic, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 06:33:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,706</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26537527</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/karasunovolleygays/pseuds/karasunovolleygays</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Akira muses over an average day living with Yuutarou.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kindaichi Yuutarou/Kunimi Akira</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Haikyuu Rarepair Exchange 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Day in the Life</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/vwritesaus/gifts">vwritesaus</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Ahhh, I hope you don't mind cavities bc this is sweet as hell. T.T</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The whistle of a teapot shakes Akira from a perfectly good sleep, and without opening his eyes, he knows exactly who the culprit is. “Make me a cup,” he croaks, voice still rough with slumber.</p><p>“‘Course,” Yuutarou answers. His gentle footsteps pad over from the hotplate in the corner, and the mattress dips as Yuutarou settles on the edge of it next to him. “Come on, you know the drill. I don’t leave for work until you have pants on, and if you make me late again, I’m going to throw you over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes and dump your ass on the bus myself.”</p><p>“Bully,” Akira murmurs as he cranes open an eye just enough to accept a steaming mug. “Who decided the day has to start so early?”</p><p>Yuutarou chuckles as he takes a sip. A pleased sigh slips through his lips. “Whoever decided the sun was a good idea.”</p><p>“Bastards.” Sitting up at last, Akira samples his tea and fights the urge to groan when he tastes it. Like always, it’s just right. The particular brand of green tea he likes, with the exact right amount of mint honey in it. </p><p>He still has no idea how Yuutarou manages to make it correctly every time when Akira can’t even do that, but every morning they wake up together in their tiny little apartment, the perfect cup of tea greets him. The deliverer isn’t half bad, either.</p><p>Slowly, the tea propels his limbs into motion, and Akira peels himself out of bed. Yuutarou scoots out of the way but doesn’t take his eyes off Akira, gaze glued until his partner’s feet finally touch the floor.</p><p>They do this every morning. Doesn’t he ever get <em> tired </em> of it?</p><p>Akira ponders his own answer to that question as he putters around to begin his day, tea still in hand but still delicious even as it grows cold. Will he ever be bored with Yuutarou teasing him out of bed every morning? </p><p>No, Akira doesn’t think he ever will be. In fact, as time goes by, he might even enjoy it a little bit more.</p><p>Yuutarou leaves the apartment right on time, with just a few spare seconds to find Akira in the washroom and give him a kiss on the cheek because his mouth is occupied with a toothbrush. “See you when I get home.”</p><p>Akira doesn’t answer, but his eyes follow Yuutarou as he gathers his work tools and leaves. Once he’s gone, the grind of the day finally begins. </p><p>Work is as dull and plodding that day as it is every other day. It’s exactly the kind of job Akira always wanted, something excessively routine, so his mind can wander in whatever direction it wants. </p><p>The daydream du jour is his brain working over the outline of a story he may or may not write. His main character is someone who aspires to be as lazy as possible, so much so that it endears him to his friends even more.</p><p>Scratch that. That’s the plot of the anime he had watched the previous weekend.</p><p>A new narrative never does bubble to life, so Akira drones his way through his account work until five o’clock hits and he’s finally free. The bus line heading home arrives five minutes late and Akira is the first one to board. He doesn’t mind standing and holding the rail if he has to, but it always makes him a little queasy so he avoids it as long as possible.</p><p>Walking the last few streets home a little slower than usual, Akira is in no hurry to return. Yuutarou is supposed to be working a little later than usual, so he won’t return home until about eight. That gives Akira plenty of time to meander back to the apartment, and order the best takeout the stack of menus on the pinboard next to the front door has to offer. </p><p>His idle plans come to a screeching halt when he passes through the threshold. </p><p>Over at the tiny kitchenette, Yuutarou is in basketball shorts and a ratty old t-shirt, humming while he pushes food around in their only wok. When he notices Akira, he turns and grins. “You’re late on time.”</p><p>The nonsensical phrase coaxes a snort from Akira, homage to his ability to be a few minutes later than necessary, even when he is technically on schedule.</p><p>“I thought you were working late.” Akira whips his tie off with a few practiced tugs, shedding the rest of his dull salaryman suit on his way toward the clothing rail in the corner. Unlike Yuutarou, however, he doesn’t bother putting on anything over his boxers and undershirt. </p><p>Clicking off the hot plate, Yuutarou says while he’s doling out some sort of noodle stir fry into two bowls, “We finished up early because we’re waiting on some parts that are supposed to show up today but ended up being delayed. When the boss told us all to kick off for the night, I wasn’t going to argue with him.”</p><p>Just as Akira settles onto a cushion at the kotatsu, Yuutarou arrives with their dinner. The scent alone is almost enough to slake his hunger after a bland lunch of a sandwich and yogurt. </p><p>Almost.</p><p>Yuutarou chatters about his day between bites while Akira savors the unexpected delight of dinner shoulder to shoulder with his partner. Though they’ve been together since they were both eighteen, those five years seem so much longer because they’ve known each other for half their lives.</p><p>Somehow, Yuutarou manages to finish first despite talking all through dinner, and in true Yuutarou fashion, he tries to start cleaning up already. A firm tug at the wrist from Akira sits him right back down.</p><p>“The dishes aren’t going anywhere, Yuu.” Akira hooks his arm through Yuutarou’s to hold him down, rolling his eyes at the occasional furtive glance toward the sink to make sure their small supply of tableware is indeed not about to scurry away. “You’re too responsible. Be a lazy douche for a change. It’ll do you some good.”</p><p>Yuutarou stifles a giggle. “You do the lazy douche thing enough for both of us. Someone’s gotta keep the cockroaches at bay.”</p><p>Akira doesn’t bother holding back a smile as he slurps down his last bit of noodles. “Fine. We’ll do them together. Twice as fast.”</p><p>A harrumph is his answer, and Akira knows he’s won. While Akira wipes down the counter, Yuutarou does the dishes efficiently while Akira stands much closer than necessary or convenient. Perhaps Yuutarou is right about them teaming up not being any faster.</p><p>His task finished first, Akira slips behind Yuutarou and winds his arms around a trim waist. In high school, Yuutarou had been just plain skinny, but this iteration of him — a master tradesman and professional volleyball player on the side — is taut and delightful to behold. </p><p>Nuzzling the curve of Yuutarou’s shoulders, Akira’s lips idly tease the pulse there, which grows increasingly ragged the longer Yuutarou is in his grasp. “Glad you’re home.”</p><p>A shaking hand hangs the wok back on its hook, and Akira grins against the soft flesh at the name of Yuutarou’s neck. “Does that mean we can play now?</p><p>“Yeah.” The timbre of Yuutarou’s voice is raw, and Akira knows he is winning this battle.</p><p>He tugs Yuutarou around and presses him against the edge of the counter. “So, what’s for dessert?” Akira doesn’t wait for an answer; instead, he throws his arms over Yuutarou’s broad shoulders and leaps.</p><p>Though they almost miss, Yuutarou’s reflexes take hold and snare Akira from what probably would’ve been a broken tailbone on a bad day and a bruised ass on a good one. </p><p>“What are you, nuts? What if I dropped you?”</p><p>Akira chortles. “You’d never drop me. You couldn’t if you wanted to.”</p><p>Yuutarou shakes his head, but he does a poor job of hiding his smile. “No, I guess not. If I did, you’d just be a giant baby about breaking your butt bone and I’d have to take care of you.”</p><p>“And you’d love every angsty minute of it.” </p><p>With a little wriggling, Akira frees an arm to swat Yuutarou on the behind, earning a yelp. “Now on, noble steed! Time to hit the stables.” </p><p>Face blossoming bright red, Yuutarou squeezes his eyes shut and groans. “You’re never gonna let me forget that, are you?”</p><p>“What, that Oikawa-san talked you into some weird G-rated pony play outfit so he could ride you like a horse?” Akira drops his cheek on Yuutarou’s shoulder, sighing long and hard. “I don’t think I can no matter how hard I try. Not when I’m <em> really </em> in the mood to, uh, ride.”</p><p>Immediately, Yuutarou dashes across the room and heaves Akira onto their bed with a bounce. “Hot damn!”</p><p>Akira reaches out and hauls Yuutarou down on top of him by the waistband of his shorts. “C’mere, Seabiscuit. I’m gonna stable the crap out of you.”</p><p>An hour later, lazy limbs tangle and Akira guffaws when he sees the goofy smile painted on Yuutarou’s face. “Good boy,” murmurs, burying himself in the crook of Yuutarou’s arm. “I’d give you some oats or something, but we <em> did </em>just eat.”</p><p>“Dessert and all.” Yuutarou’s arm tightens around Akira, and his thumb runs soft circles on his hip. “You’re in a really good mood today.”</p><p>And it’s true. Usually their romps are initiated by Yuutarou fixing Akira with a pleading gaze, and Akira is usually up for some play time whenever, with varying degrees of energy. This time, however, he had asserted himself much to Yuutarou’s delight. </p><p>He thinks back to his monotonous trek home, how he had resigned himself to a night alone, with Yuutarou coming home late and too tired to do anything but eat and sleep. The moment he walked through the door and saw his roommate, best friend, and lover waiting for him, though, the weight of that sentence evaporated. </p><p>“Yeah, I suppose I am,” Akira murmurs in reply.</p><p>It’s way too early to go to bed but neither of them care. Wherever they spend the evening, as long as it’s together, it’s right where they want to be.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>